As You Are
by Liete
Summary: -UK/US, delinquent AU- 'He wouldn't even think to waste his time if he didn't find Alfred at least somewhat interesting, and he does. He finds Alfred far more than just somewhat interesting.'


**As You Are  
**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

* * *

From below, the afternoon bell chimes the end of the day, sweet freedom for the teenagers trapped inside, and Arthur thinks _finally_ as he pulls out his carton of cigarettes and pulls another stick out with his teeth. He'd skipped class again, because what's the point? There's only one reason to show up at that school and that reason wasn't even up there on the roof with him yet.

Arthur looks through the fencing down at the herds of cattle in their crisp uniforms shuffling out the doors and squawking like crows as they discuss whatever pointless things are going on in their lives. Arthur tsks and lights up the cigarette, scanning the crowd until…_there._ That ratty antique bomber jacket is like a beacon that his eyes are invariably drawn to. Alfred F. Jones. Straight-A student. Football (American, that is) quarterback. Friend to everyone (and joke behind his back). Current fuck buddy of one Arthur Kirkland. Namely me, Arthur thinks and watches the boy down below.

Alfred's with his usual posse of insufferable wankers; the perverted Frenchman, the foul-mouthed and apologetic Italians, the quiet Japanese boy, the bossy German, and a slew of other expendable louts whose cars he'd key if the mood suited him. Not Alfred, though, not the school's golden boy. Alfred looks up and their eyes meet, and Arthur tries to convey his impatience and get your bloody arse up here _now_, and Alfred says something to his friends and waves goodbye as he runs back towards the school while they look understandably perplexed.

Arthur turns back around so he can lean back and stare up at the sky while he enjoys his nicotine and waits for his blond distraction to come and give him an excuse to not go home and get kicked around by his worthless brothers, or go pick a few pockets just for the hell of it. He might do that anyway after he's done with Alfred.

The door to the roof slams open, that boy is never one for subtlety, and Alfred appears, face flushed and panting, his glasses nearly sliding off his nose as if he'd been running. He probably did. He beams at Arthur, who remains carefully indifferent, as he jogs over and affectionately ruffles the older boy's spiky hair. Arthur gives the boy a cold look as he sits next to him, that smile and those blue, blue eyes ever bright.

"'Sup, Eyebrows! Didja miss me?" he asks too cheerfully, a stark contrast to the irritable boy next to him.

"Hn," Arthur replies listlessly. The answer is yes, too much, but this isn't a relationship, and he owes Alfred nothing, just as the American owes him nothing in return. He takes another drag from his cigarette before Alfred can lean over and kiss him.

Alfred takes the cigarette from Arthur's fingers, prompting a raised eyebrow from the older boy, and with a slightly hesitant look, puts it in his mouth and inhales. He coughs, chokes really, and Arthur smirks as he takes back the stub of nicotine and smoke and takes a drag like a pro. He turns to Alfred and blows the smoke in his face with a shit-eating grin as the younger boy continues to cough and then glares at Arthur with sincere hurt in his eyes.

It's ridiculous how Alfred thinks he needs to be something he's not in order for Arthur to pay attention to him. He wouldn't even think to waste his time if he didn't find Alfred at least somewhat interesting, and he does. He finds Alfred far more than just somewhat interesting.

He stubs out what's left of the cigarette and buries his face in Alfred's neck, breathing in the smell of his cheap cologne and the old leather of that jacket he insists on wearing, wanting the boy to _stop pouting _because he's a teenager, not a child and doesn't he know that that face turns him on?

Alfred's breath hitches and his arm goes around Arthur, pulling him closer, and he leans his head back so Arthur has better access. With the unspoken consent, Arthur starts pressing open mouthed kisses to the exposed flesh, sucking and nipping just enough to leave marks. Marks that will no doubt draw attention from Alfred's friends, who will wonder which girl Alfred's been sneaking off with. Arthur smirks at the thought, knowing that Alfred was too good, too vanilla to do anything beyond hold hands and exchange chaste, boring kisses before this started.

He's long since stopped caring about what started their trysts, even if he's never forgotten. He'd been loitering at some fast food place or another, mock shooting the patrons as they shuffled fearfully in and out of the restaurant, until some bright-eyed kid had come out and politely asked him to leave. That had been their first meeting, and probably should have been their last, but it was Alfred's goal in life to befriend everyone, be their hero, and he'd managed to worm his way into Arthur's life whether he liked it or not. Arthur had been rather surprised at how eagerly Alfred had kissed him back when Arthur had tried it just for the hell of it, because what did he have to lose if Alfred was disgusted and finally left him alone? Kisses turned into much more, and that was how they wound up where they are now. Arthur showing up at school because it's more convenient than waiting for Alfred to find him. He may go to class now and then if the mood suits him, because it's a distraction, and that's all that life ultimately is.

Arthur kisses Alfred languidly as he slips his hands into the younger boy's jacket, pushing the garment off his shoulders as Alfred shrugs it off and starts fumbling with the buttons on Arthur's dress shirt. Arthur breaks the kiss long enough that they can quickly remove their shirts and then press together, the feeling of Alfred's bare skin against his eliciting a shudder involuntarily. He crushes his lips to Alfred's again immediately after, drawing a keening whimper from the younger boy that makes Arthur shiver with want.

"I hope you remembered to bring a condom this time," he pants as he breaks the kiss again and stares at Alfred's flushed face and half-lidded eyes behind metal frames.

Alfred takes a few deep breaths, then fumbles in the pocket of his discarded jacket and retrieves a small plastic package which he holds up for Arthur to see. Arthur smirks and closes his hand around Alfred's as he lowers the boy to the asphalt. The foreplay will last long enough for the rest of the students to vacate the school, leaving plenty of empty classrooms perfect for a few shags with his mismatched lover. He won't be impatient, he doesn't want to hear Alfred whine again about how badly he scraped his back because they'd had sex on the roof. Desks are perfect for improvising and keeping things interesting, anyhow.

Alfred's hands start threading his hair and he starts to whimper "Arthur, I-" but Arthur clamps his mouth on Alfred's and swallows the words before the boy can say them, because he doesn't want to hear them, because it's not really a relationship and he doesn't want it to be. He doesn't. He doesn't. He keeps telling himself he doesn't.

Arthur knows that most of the student body would kill him if they knew what he was doing to their golden boy. Taking their bright, shining star and dragging him down into his darkness without a second thought. What they don't know, and what he doesn't want to admit, is that it's the reverse. It's Alfred who is the influence, pulling him up and out, making him want things and want to strive for something better.

Alfred moans beneath him as Arthur rocks their still clothed hips together, and he knows that Alfred will try to invite him to dinner or to a movie when they've had their fill of each other, because Alfred is a good guy like that, wanting to give back what he takes. He's still too good, too kind, and Arthur thinks, maybe just this once, he'll say yes.


End file.
